Book of Max
by wolftallica
Summary: Max has just fulfilled his duty at the Citadel, saving everyone. But after a chance encounter, he continues his seemingly never ending journey to the United States. But is it more than he bargained for?


Chapter 1

"Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland, in search of our better selves"

-The First History Man

At the Citadel, the citizens are overjoyed at the sight of Joe's mangled corpse, signifying the end of his despotic rule over the land. Furiosa standing up there looked like the true leader she was born to be. But honestly, she was never anything but a fighter and a leader. At the citizens' joyful urging, Furiosa and the Wives are raised up on a lift by the child War Boys, but Max stays behind. He and Furiosa share a glance of acknowledgment before Max disappears into the crowd.

Yet another society Max has helped out. Why is it always him that gets caught in the middle of everything everywhere he goes? Perhaps his conscience happens to get the better of him each time. Or maybe he's just the type to be in the right place at the right time; to go where he's needed. He continues out of the crowd back near the desert and stumbles upon a collection of vehicles the War Boys have stored nearby. He looked at the lot of about thirty or so cars, they were all modified and tricked out to fit their needs and to efficiently travel the wasteland. He examines car after car, and even though some happened to be extremely badass, they weren't quite what he was searching for. But then, he came across one that was damn gorgeous. Complete with big, bulky tires for trekking across the desert and extra tanks to hold fuel, this one was absolutely perfect through his eyes. Parked right in front of him was a grey, slightly worn-out modified 1973 Plymouth Satellite. "We've got a winner", he thought to himself. He took a look inside; surprisingly enough, the keys were still in the ignition. But that would be expected since these vehicles needed to be ready at a moment's notice. He decided to scribe a note directed to Furiosa stating that he was taking this car, although he knew she wouldn't mind at all. He pulled a sheet of paper and a pen out of a pocket in his jacket. He began with his slightly messy print:

Furiosa,

I am taking the '73 Plymouth Satellite, although I know you won't mind. It is time for me to continue on. Take care of yourself.

-Max

He normally left without words, but for some reason, he felt as if this was necessary. Leaving the note on a nearby car, he walked back towards the Mopar and got inside, started it, and off he went. This beauty was even produced the same year as his old car. It's a shame that, even though the car he chose suits him extremely well, he still missed his V8 Interceptor, which was actually a modified 1973 Ford Falcon XB GT. He had a lot of memories stored within that car, and it was heart-wrenching when it was obliterated after he had helped out the second-to-last society. Not that he had the time, or energy for that matter, to waste on feeling sad of course. He didn't know where, exactly, he was headed, but all he knew is that he would again inevitably end up helping out yet someone else. All he knew was that next he would end up where he was truly needed.

After careful thought and a considerable amount of planning, Max decided he would head west from here. He began his ride, the tires on his car and even the car itself simply perfect for traversing the barren wasteland. Before he departed, he had placed weapons, jugs of water, food, and extra fuel in the trunk and within the back seats of the vehicle, so he was ready for anything and everything.

Driving across the desert seemed painfully long given the complete lack of scenery and how he had no way to tell the time. Every once in a while, he would stop and take a break, a well-needed drink of water, or perhaps lunch. Nightfall came upon him like a thief. He had at first considered driving with the starry sky hanging over him, but decided it would only drain his energy and that it wouldn't be possible to see anything with the encasing darkness. So he threw on a spare leather jacket to keep warm through the chilly night and a old fleece blanket to sleep with. But it didn't mean he could actually go to sleep, at least at first. He was awakened several times throughout the night by nightmares that were to be forgotten by the time he had awoke. But after the lesser half of the night was gone, he was finally able to fall peacefully asleep.

Morning had come just as the night had left. He groggily awoke and prepared himself breakfast (which consisted of rehydrated eggs, a can of fruit, and instant coffee). He curiously checked on how much fuel was left in the tanks and whether he would have to refill them or not. As it turns out, his car used up less gasoline than he thought. He didn't even need to refill it, with possible thanks to the extra fuel tanks. After he was done checking it, he continued on west to the unknown destination. Seemingly timeless hours had passed. The dark had come yet again, and with that came another near-sleepless night, although slightly better than the previous night for the simple reason of Max deciding to build a fire.

On the morning of the third day, he did end up having to refill his tanks. After the refill, he only had about 12 gallons left of gasoline. He takes off again, unsure if he's even going in the right direction anymore; all he's seen for nearly 3 days are just the all too familiar sand dunes, with the exception of a few abandoned crates along the way that, to Max's disappointment, contained nothing. "Damn, I really don't know this time", Max thought to himself, breaking the icy silence within his own mind, "I'm following my instinct with this one, which has never let me down before, but there is absolutely nothing out here. I hope I come across something soon, or I'm screwed" Mere seconds after he had that thought, coming over a sand dune he spots a huge mansion about a quarter mile away. Max couldn't suppress the smile on his face, he had finally found something!

So of course he pulled up to it. The mansion, if not for the yellow-orangish tint due to the thin layer of sand covering it, would've been white. He parked his car and got out. No sooner, a seemingly older middle-aged couple rushed out onto the porch (that was about 50 ft way from where he was currently standing) and the man pointed a shotgun at him. Immediately, Max put his hands up. "Look, sir, I don't want any trouble-" he started while taking a small step closer. He heard the man loudly cock the large shotgun. "Don't come any closer or I'll blast your head clean off your neck, boy!" he spat out. Max had to think quick. "I'm sorry sir, I was just passing by, and I saw your house. I've been driving for 3 days straight and this is the first thing I've come across so far." The man scrunched his nose and asked, "What's your name, boy?" To which he honestly replied "Max."

The man pulled his face from out of the shotgun's sights to look Max dead in the eye. "THE Max, the one who took down the Acolytes, Toecutter's gang?" Max, hands still in the air, said "yes, that was me". The man, eyeing him closely, finally put his gun down, relieving Max greatly. The woman beside him ran to Max with tears in her eyes and hugged him. "You probably don't remember me, but you saved me from those savages." He merely said, with a genuine smile on his face, "Glad I could help". The grinning man, finally walking down the steps, said, "I'm glad I can finally have the pleasure of meeting you. Never getting the chance to thank you properly for saving my wife has been haunting me. I truly can't thank you enough. I'm George, and this is Linda." Max extended his hand out with the intention to shake. George grabbed it and they shook on it. With a smile, Max said, "Pleasure's all mine".

George and Linda led Max into their large mansion. It's clear that, before the War, they were millionaires. They brought him into their living room, while they went to the kitchen; Linda to start a pot of tea, and George to make some sandwiches. Max, although he would never tell them this, was actually slightly jealous that they were able to enjoy such luxuries. But nonetheless, he was happy and quite nostalgic to be in a living room, sitting on a comfortable smooth leather couch. Looking around, they had a beautiful living room, it was antique yet modern.

Linda and George both came back into the living room with the tea and the sandwiches. "You must be famished" Linda started,"it's not healthy to only live off of canned soup." George then added, "Well, eat up. Hopefully these will help you regain your strength." Max at first reluctantly took a sandwich, but once he started eating, he couldn't stop. In fact, he'd nearly finished off the whole plate of sandwiches. He had forgotten how hungry he actually was. It's as if at one point of eating so little for a while, your stomach just gives up on feeing hungry. Tea, on the other hand, was something he wasn't a big fan of, but for the sake of being polite, he sipped on his cup of it. But to his surprise, his particular cup of tea was actually very good. At first, he couldn't tell what type of tea it was, but after Linda saw him glancing at his tea with a questioning look, she said with a smile, "It's a cinnamon herbal tea."

"So Max, me and Linda were carefully discussing this, and you are free to object, but have you ever thought that there might be real civilization left?" George said after they had finished their meal. Max hadn't considered this; in fact, he couldn't imagine this world other than the barbaric state it's in. Linda then said, "Out of all the countries, don't you think the United States is the most likely to have some civilization? After months of talking it over, this is the conclusion George and I have come to." Linda took a sip of her tea before she continued, "You see, Max, the point I'm getting at is, before the War, George was an extremely talented pilot, able to fly in just about any weather condition. And somehow, after the War, he was able to bring a small private jet to our house with enough fuel for 2 trips. And before you came here, we'd been planning and preparing for this trip to America. And since you saved my life, we've, I've, been forever grateful. So George and I want to ask you, do you want to accompany us on this trip, Max?"

Max was at a complete loss of words. America? He'd never even been out of Australia, let alone the other side of the ocean. But yet, a fray of extreme curiosity sparked deep within him. In fact, every bit of instinct he had was telling him to say yes, even though he had no idea what he would find on the other end of the Earth. But, what else was here for him, really? A new country meant new adventures. And Linda had said that they had enough fuel for 2 trips, so if they so happened to not find anything, then they could always return home. His instinct was tearing at him, telling him to say yes. What's the worst that could possibly happen?

After an unsure sigh, he finally said, "Yes, I'll go with you two." They both possessed looks of excitement on their faces in regards to his decision, which he was still unsure about. George exclaimed, "Excellent! We'll leave in two days' time." Max thought to himself, "Well, my instinct hasn't wronged me yet. Let's see if it can maintain that perfect record." They spent the next two days extensively preparing, packing food, water, fuel, weapons, and anything else they might have needed. They wanted to make sure they were prepared for the worst.

The morning of their departure couldn't have come sooner. Max helped George load up the private jet with everything they were bringing along. Finally, they each took their seats, with Linda taking the copilot's seat up front with George. He started the plane and soon they were in the air, flying over the almost never ending desert, with the streak being broken by the Atlantic Ocean. It was Linda that finally broke the silence. "So, Max, are you nervous?" Max wasn't much of a talker, so Linda assumed he had fallen asleep, which in in fact he hadn't, so the silence continued. But Max actually was somewhat nervous, unlike his usual brave and fearless self. But then, anyone else in his situation would be understandably nervous as well. But it didn't matter, he was determined to follow his strongest instinct yet, no matter how "nervous" he was.

So they finally started seeing land again. Which secretly relieved Max. But, he actually saw something that surprised him, looking down below, they appeared to be lush forests, not the usual desert landscape he was so used to seeing. But then they started passing mountains, then even bigger mountains. This was over the span of many hours. Then, they were finally seeing desert-like landscape, although not as extreme as in Australia. George decided to land near a highway that looked promising enough. They got out, legs wobbly from sitting for such a long time. Max smiled and thought, "So this is America..."

AN: So let me know what you thought. Oh, and if you haven't noticed, the reason I chose a 73 Plymouth Satellite is because I have a connection with it on a personal level, on top of being one of my all time favorite cars. This is my second fanfiction so far, and please leave a review, they really inspire me.


End file.
